The Party of the Year
by x Varda x
Summary: Rodney doesn’t see the funny side of the Christmas pranks, nor the results of too much cheer. A bit of Rodney and Jennifer friendship, and a lot of team love. Set in Season Four.


**Title** - The Party of the Year  
**Characters** – A bit of Rodney and Jennifer friendship, and a lot of team love.  
**Genre** – Angst/hurt/comfort (like it would be anything else coming from me!)  
**Word Count** – 5400ish  
**Disclaimer** – I don't own it, otherwise I wouldn't still be waiting for that train to take me to work in the icy freeze.  
**Summary** – Rodney doesn't see the funny side of the Christmas pranks, nor the results of too much cheer… Set in Season Four.

**A/N** - Happy Christmas to everyone! I'd say Happy Christmas to Rodney too, but, um, yes, well… he probably wouldn't appreciate it…

**_The Party of the Year_**

"Where's Rodney?" Jennifer shouted above the sound of booming Christmas songs coming through the high quality Ancient sound system.

Sheppard turned to her and bellowed back, "I don't know! I'm not his keeper."

Jennifer's heart sank and she glanced at her watch, squinting against the dizzying flashing light display rigged up to the ceiling. It had just gone 9pm and the Christmas Eve party was in full swing. If he didn't turn up soon, he was going to miss the whole thing.

She shrugged and said, "I'm going to find him. Any ideas where could be?"

"He does this every year," John yelled back at her. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not. Probably. "He's usually in the science labs or some other lab well hidden away and hard to find."

Jennifer smiled at him brightly and nodded. "I'll find him, wherever he's hiding, he can't escape."

John smirked back at her as she wove her way in between the gathered revellers, at varying degrees of merriment due to the crate of alcohol the Daedalus dropped off for Christmas. She was pleased to note that Sheppard was staying more or less sober, but Ronon was already shouting Satedan drinking songs loudly enough to drown out the dulcet tones of Wham's Last Christmas.

Jennifer ducked out of the room and breathed a sigh of relief as the noise level instantly diminished to less ear-hurting levels.

She walked along the corridor and the moment the transporter door slid shut behind her, it was silent and the sound of her breathing was loud in her ears. She activated her radio and tried to call Rodney, but he didn't answer.

"The hard way it is then, McKay," she muttered and tapped the display for the science labs.

* * *

Jennifer was surprised to find Rodney in the main lab, working on his computer in silence like it was just a normal night. It was almost like he _wanted_ to be found, unlike what John had told her about how hard it was to track him down and drag him kicking and screaming to social events. He really was as petty as he claimed if he needed that kind of attention.

There were some decorations hanging up around the room and tinsel strung across the ceiling in criss-crossing paths, twinkling even in the dull moody lighting of the lab that evening.

Jennifer cleared her throat and Rodney looked up at her as she approached. His face brightened, but he didn't speak.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Jennifer asked nonchalantly.

Rodney gave her a suspicious look and then replied heavily, "Working, unlike _some_ people."

Jennifer felt her hackles rise at what he was implying, but bit her lip.

Rodney continued sarcastically, "Fixing all the hilarious pranks before they get out of hand and someone gets very angry." He looked around the lab at the empty desks and then turned back to her. "Notably, _me_. As no-one else seems to care if the marines' quarters have lights, heat and flowing water."

Jennifer felt anger blossom inside of her. Not at Rodney himself for hiding from everyone, but _for_ him due to the thoughtless actions of others.

"How long will it take? You're missing the party!"

Rodney sighed and glanced down at his screen. "I was nearly finished actually, but there's a lot more to be done." He looked down at the desk as he folded his arms over his chest and said indignantly, "This is the worst time of year for malfunctions as everyone messes around with the systems, plugging in things they shouldn't…"

"Fairylights and trees?"

"…Those that can reconfigure systems make them play music, flash the lights, make the lights change colour…"

Jennifer furrowed her brow as Rodney's voice rose in helpless anger. He flapped his hand at her and then around the room. "They all do it, and I fix it. There were several minor explosions in lab three earlier and the lights in Sergeant Doherty's quarters nearly caught fire."

It sounded like they were heading for a full scale disaster if Rodney were to spend even a moment away from his laptop. Jennifer went over to him and stood behind him to look at the screen. Rodney blinked at her and then shut his eyes as he turned back to the monitor and hung his head down with his shoulders slumped. His hands rested on the keys, but he didn't type anything.

She reached out tentatively and placed her hand in the middle of his back, feeling the tension of his muscles. She leant forwards and spoke into his ear. "Just a couple of hours, that's all I ask." She wanted to add, _"Would you do that for me? It's not as good without you." _But she did not think the abrasive and currently miserable Rodney would take too kindly to that.

He typed a few more commands and Jennifer removed the contact as she watched the screen flashing in quick succession between schematics and maps of Atlantis that she couldn't even begin to follow. Rodney suddenly hit the 'Enter' key very hard with an exaggerated flourish like a pianist and then spun around to face her.

"Done," he uttered. "The marines will sleep soundly tonight in their heated and well lit rooms. If they even notice, what with the alcohol consumption being measured in litres per person, per hour."

She raised her eyebrows in a question.

Rodney sighed and rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright." He stood up and held up one finger to admonish her. "But two hours only, or you'll be the one putting out the fires with me."

Jennifer didn't say that she wouldn't mind helping if it meant spending more time with him, but merely nodded and drew alongside him. She bumped shoulders with him, making Rodney huff in half-hearted anger, "Personal space, Keller!"

Jennifer smiled at him and his expression softened in confusion. She glanced at his uniformed chest and said, "Shall we swing by your quarters for something more… Christmassy?"

Rodney scowled at her, but that only made her smile broaden into a grin.

* * *

Rodney emerged from his quarters ten minutes after Jennifer had left him. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt, black trousers and black shoes. Jennifer stared at him for a moment and Rodney's face went bright red at the attention. He looked at her and wrung his hands together nervously, "Too much?"

Jennifer locked eyes with his and said, "Not at all. You look nice."

Rodney's face went even redder, if that was possible, before it gradually returned to a more normal colour. He gestured in her general direction noticing her long dress for the first time. "Um… you… uh… so do you."

She smiled brightly and linked arms with him. This was probably the closest they would get to having a date, without her actually _asking_ the ever-oblivious Rodney McKay outright. She knew he would be far too evasive for that, and she was too nervous herself to ever ask anyway. After all, this was just two friends going to a party together, wasn't it? Just because Rodney was a man and she was a woman, didn't mean they were dating, right?

She led him into the transporter and pressed the screen for the mess hall, silently praying that the party was still in full swing after her half hour absence.

* * *

The moment they stepped into the mess hall, Rodney knew something was wrong. Not in the sense that the whole city was about to explode as usual, but that the lights on the girder that had been fixed to the ceiling really shouldn't have been flashing quite like that. The music was far too loud as well, and if the glass window didn't shatter, Rodney's eardrums would soon.

Someone thrust a glass of wine into his hand and Jennifer guided him through the gathered crowd. He felt the weight of them bearing down on him and crushing suffocation as his claustrophobia reasserted itself. He shut his eyes briefly and took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down. Jennifer was talking to him, but he couldn't hear what she was saying above the din. He nodded and smiled as best he could, but she gave him a bemused look and then gestured towards the dance floor.

Rodney hadn't had enough alcohol to consider _that_ yet, and there really was something wrong with the lights. His fear was only reinforced when he glanced up to see a small spark fall from one that was frantically changing between yellow, red and green.

Jennifer drew one of her arms around Rodney's back and he felt a shiver of pleasure run through him. She placed her other warm hand on his stomach and Rodney tried to pull away in nervous panic. She smiled as she held onto him tightly and curled her fingers against his midsection as he struggled, just as a manically dancing reveller got too close to them and smacked Rodney in the head with a flailing arm.

He shouted in fury at the perpetrator, even though it was mainly his pride that was hurting, but the man merely shrugged and mouthed, "Sorry," before continuing with his crazy dancing.

Jennifer looked at him in concern and relaxed her grip, but she was still touching him and the contact was making Rodney very flustered as he felt his cheeks glowing in embarrassment.

He spotted another spark fly from one of the lights and pointed at it and shouted about going out to fix it at the junction down the corridor.

Jennifer nodded, and after a brief hug, she let go. How she could hear above the racket, Rodney was unsure, but grateful.

He put his half-finished wine glass down and pushed through the crowds, imagining empty fields and skies as he went. His back and abdomen were still hot and tingling from where Jennifer's touch had rested, and the memory his skin held heated him to the core far more efficiently than any alcohol could.

* * *

Rodney knew what the problem was before he had even found the junction panel on the wall near the mess hall, which held some of the wires routing power through the section. Raucous laughter wafted up the corridor from where he needed to be, so loud that it rose above the awful sound of Christmas songs behind Rodney.

His rage built up swiftly as he rounded the corner and took in the five burly marines which easily towered over him in both stature and bulky muscles.

Rodney felt small and vulnerable, but his anger made him shout at them as he watched one marine attach a lead to what even a monkey should be able to tell was clearly the wrong connector. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" he all but screamed at them in fury as he tried to barge his way through their ranks to get to the panel.

They stopped and turned to him as Rodney walked right into the midst of them and pushed two of them aside, ignoring their growls of anger. He pulled the lead out and put it back in the right place. The whole section of wall was a mess of wires sticking in all the wrong places. They were lucky the lights were still up and lit and not on fire yet.

One of the marines said, "Making things more interesting."

"I think things are interesting enough, without you blowing up the party organised for you," Rodney snapped. "If you want to be entertained by pretty explosions, which seems to be the only thing you marine-types like, why not just wait until the next time you're offworld and crank open some C4. Seems to be what you're best at."

Rodney turned and shot the tallest, brick-built marine a death glare, but then swallowed compulsively as his eyes darted nervously to the other four, who encircled him like vultures with evil glints in their eyes.

Rodney gestured at the wall panel and his voice stuttered, "It'll take me a while to fix this, so why d-don't you run along now and go back to the party?"

The ringleader narrowed his eyes at Rodney and released a sigh of realisation. Rodney smelt alcohol on his breath, and suddenly he felt terribly exposed and in danger. He reached up a shaking hand, but his radio wasn't there. Not that he would ever seriously consider going running to Sheppard just because of a few bullies. He could take care of himself now, having been going offworld and into hostile places for four years and still being alive to tell the tale. He drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest.

"It was you," the marine said. The others nodded in agreement and shifted closer, causing Rodney's claustrophobia to make an unwelcome return.

He could only squeak, "What?"

The marine poked him in the chest with a finger that felt like metal making Rodney wince and instantly deflate.

The jarhead carried on, "You were the one who made all our showers go from hot to cold, and the lights flash on and off all day long."

The other marines moved closer, and Rodney backed up until he was pressed flat against the wall by the junction. He looked around for an exit, but had a nasty suspicion that if he tried to get away, he'd get hit and floored before he could break free. At least on his feet he could try to defend himself.

"No. I don't know who did that, but I just spent the last couple of hours fixing the malfunctions. Your quarters should be fine now."

"No, it was _you_," one of the others insisted.

The biggest marine grabbed the front of Rodney's shirt in one meaty fist over his chest and held him fast. Rodney pushed against the hand, but did not have the strength to get free. He considered threatening them with the Colonel, but that seemed childish and pointless in this situation. He was a genius after all, and his sharp mind should be able to diffuse any situation by now, even if his wannabe assailants were too inebriated to understand what he said.

"It doesn't really matter who it was, does it? Aren't you all trained to live in tents with no running water anyway?"

"While you live the life of luxury and eat too much?" The marines all grumbled in agreement, as the one holding him looked down his body. Rodney tensed his muscles to protect his internal organs as he drew his belly inwards, expecting a blow, which didn't then come.

He let out a breath for that moment of relief, but the marine's grip on the material over his chest tightened and then tugged his shirt upwards, exposing the pale band of his midriff to the air.

"What are you doing?" he gasped in panic. "I just spent hours fixing the errors!" He gabbled in panic, his voice rising in pitch. "While you've been partying and creating yet more problems I will have to sort out, I've been working!"

Clearly they were too drunk and single track minded to believe or process what he just said, because suddenly a knife appeared from somewhere and Rodney struggled and squirmed, his heart rate shooting through the roof. He hit out and caught what was a fairly heavy punch for him, on the jaw of the marine with the long blade. But strong hands grabbed his wrists and held him fast as there was a flash of metal and then Rodney felt a cold line being drawn horizontally across the tender flesh of his belly. The minimal pressure applied made the sharp tip of the blade split his fragile skin and he started to bleed. In the wake of the cool steel, terrible pain followed and he cried out weakly.

He tensed up, thinking that the next thing he would feel would be the icy plunge of the knife into his gut, but the marine let go of his shirt and the blood-tint edged knife vanished to where it had come from. The marines were grinning nastily and the leader said, "You mess around with the tech and we hurt you. That's the difference between us and you scientists."

The grips around his wrists vanished and the marines stalked away back to the mess hall. Rodney panted as he leant against the wall. His limbs felt shaky and weak, and his heart was pounding, making him feel light-headed like he was about to fall down. There was a stinging pain across his middle where the knife had sliced him, and he lifted his shirt up to check the wound.

He whimpered as he gently pressed the edges of the cut with his fingers, testing its depth and severity. Although it was long, it wasn't deep, and it had already stopped bleeding before he poked it, but now blood trickled onto his hand and he had to fight down the nausea. It was likely he would need stitches, and it really hurt as every frantic breath he took to get enough oxygen to remain standing, stretched his skin and pulled the wound. He could disinfect and bandage it later, and thought that maybe Jennifer could help him out, as he was unsure if he could inflict that kind of agony on himself willingly. But that would mean admitting to weakness so he hastily dismissed the idea.

He turned back to the junction and left blood on some of the wires as he put all the cables back in the right places. He sighed sadly as his futile wiping only made matters worse as he smeared his blood around all over everything, but he was confident that things were now back in place, so he stumbled back to the party, holding his midsection as he went.

"Too much to drink, McKay?" one of the marines who had just assaulted him muttered right into his ear as he staggered back into the mess hall.

Perhaps now would be a good time to collapse. He could feel that his shirt was damp with blood, only hidden because he was wearing a dark colour and the lights were now crazier than ever. The marines must have found another way to mess with them. Allowing himself to fail now, would mean that they had won, and he knew they were watching his every move from somewhere in the room. The faces of the people around him blurred as his eyes welled up with tears, but he didn't shed a drop, because he would never submit and give them the proof they wanted about how weak he truly was.

He couldn't find Jennifer in the crowd, or John, or even Teyla or Ronon. People jostled and shoved him, pushed him this way and that, and out of their way as he tried to get through. He screwed his eyes shut, but that was small relief for the pain assailing him from the stinging cut. There were shouts nearby, which even Rodney could hear above the loud music, although he couldn't make out any of the words in the confusion and his feet were slowing down as he considered giving up and returning to his quarters.

Why had he even come back in here anyway? He hated parties, the press of people around him, work colleagues who were almost strangers. Had he come looking for Jennifer, maybe he really was going to pluck up enough courage to ask for help?

He sighed as he finally gave up, his quarters far more alluring than another hour of this, so he spun around to make his way out of there back the way he had come. But the shouting had increased in volume and Rodney found that people were now looking up at the ceiling fearfully and clearing a path for him. He thought hazily, "Hmm, that's nice of them after all this time."

Rodney was not feeling very well, so his reactions were dulled and slow. As such, he didn't move out of the way in time, or indeed, at all, and the girder housing the lights came loose, swung down and struck him. There was a bright spark of electricity as it made contact with his chest, lifting him off the floor and sending him backwards and crashing to the ground in a heap within the crowd of people who had tried and failed to slow his flight.

He didn't move and didn't get up, and his chest remained still.

* * *

Jennifer watched what happened in horror. The moment the loose ceiling lighting support fell and hit Rodney, she was there in a flash, before the music had even been turned off and people had cleared the way. Someone called for a medical team as she checked him and discovered that he had neither breath nor heartbeat. She rolled him onto his back, then began counting out chest compressions, not even flinching or stopping when she felt he had broken ribs and her ministrations cracked a further couple of the weakened bones.

Behind her, she could hear several people calling out for the room to be secured and cleared, but to Jennifer it felt like she was the only one there as her vision tunnelled and her mindset focused entirely on the still form of the man under her hands.

When the med team arrived with all the proper gear, Jennifer had to shock Rodney twice with the defibrillator paddles before his heart finally resumed beating normally. His chest was burnt and there was a very neat and extremely puzzling cut running across his midsection. His feet were burnt too where the electricity had passed through him and discharged into the floor. He was carefully bandaged, transferred to the waiting gurney and wheeled away.

Jennifer made to follow them, but a hand on her arm stayed her. She turned and her gaze met with John Sheppard's. Ronon and Teyla were behind him, and they all looked fully sober now by what had happened.

John asked, "How is he?"

"He died, and I only just managed to bring him back." She sighed and admitted, "I really don't know yet. He's badly burnt and cut, and I'm pretty sure several of his ribs are fractured."

John nodded grimly and Jennifer noticed for the first time that the room was clear apart from her and the rest of Rodney's team.

She said, "Let's get down to the infirmary and find out."

* * *

Jennifer allowed the medical team that was on duty to tend to Rodney, as he needed stitches to seal the laceration on his abdomen, and Jennifer's hands were shaking. She didn't trust herself after a couple of glasses of wine not to make matters worse.

They cleaned up and loosely bandaged the burns. As his many broken ribs were not actually pressing into his lungs, they merely gave him painkillers, oxygen and fluids while he slept.

John stood next to Rodney's bed with Jennifer as she frowned down at the pale stillness of the severely injured, silent scientist. John gestured down at the bandage around Rodney's middle and asked, "How did he get cut like that? There wasn't anything sharp on the light that could've done it."

"I was thinking the same thing," Jennifer replied as she took Rodney's limp hand in her own and pretended to take his pulse unnecessarily for the bleeps of the heart monitor nearby. "We'll probably have to wait until he wakes up and then ask him."

"Oh, Rodney!" Jennifer whispered sadly as she tightened the grip she had on his unmoving hand. "On Christmas Eve too."

John shifted between his feet uncomfortably and said, "Well, I'll leave you to it, Carter will want to know what happened. Call me if there's any news."

Jennifer nodded and then pulled up a chair. She was off duty anyway and not the one responsible for Rodney's care, so didn't feel guilty about sitting with him to welcome in Christmas Day, even though he was unaware.

* * *

When Rodney woke up, he felt pain in his chest with every breath he drew. He knew even then that any pain he felt was dulled by drugs, as he sensed something far worse below his level of perception.

Ice chips slid into his mouth when he moaned, and a soothing voice floated into his mind, although he could not yet understand the words.

He winced and mumbled, "What day is it?"

The voice became silent and there was an insistent pawing on his forehead, brushing a stray strand of short tickly hair out of the way. He furrowed his brow and asked, "Seriously, how long?"

"Three days," a pleasant female voice replied.

Rodney opened his eyes as sadness squeezed his already overburdened heart. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth when he saw that it was Jennifer leaning over him. "I missed it then?"

He looked along himself and saw that Jennifer was changing the bandage wrapped around his middle. He grimaced at the row of stitches and deep purple bruising covering his chest. Jennifer raised an eyebrow and smirked as she gestured down at his torso. "Looks like a face…"

Rodney scowled at her and she at least had the decency to blush deep red and finish the bandaging in silence. Once she was done, she pursed her lips as she pulled the covers up over Rodney's chest and then straightened up. "I'm really sorry, Rodney. You've got six broken ribs and you've been asleep all this time."

"Six!" Rodney whistled and then coughed, like he didn't believe Jennifer when she told him that his ribcage was shattered, and needed to test the theory. She was right though, as his eyes watered and his vision dimmed to grey at the spikes of pain that shoved into his lungs and constricted his airways from the horrendous agony of that single cough.

When his vision returned, he was feeling groggy and heavy. And more than a little loopy. He gazed at Jennifer dreamily and said, "Six… Oh, that's quite a lot. Are there any left for demons to play the xylophone?"

Jennifer smiled at him warmly. "Close your eyes and sleep. I'll let the others know you've been up."

Rodney did as she asked and slipped down into dreamless, drugged sleep.

* * *

Rodney slept his way through most of the next few days, but in a moment of lucidity while John sat next to him, John suddenly gestured down at Rodney's midsection and the smarting cut under the bandage. "How did that happen? Keller says it can't have been done by the lights, it was too clean and straight, like a knife had made it."

"I don't know," Rodney hastily dismissed.

"You won't be in any trouble if you tell me. But I _do_ need to know. Who hurt you?"

Rodney closed his eyes and sighed. If Sheppard could do something about the marines who had sliced him open, then maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to come clean. "It was your men…"

"Men who do this to you are not _my_ men," Sheppard said angrily and Rodney flinched.

"Th-they blamed me for the malfunctions and cornered me in the corridor while they were fiddling with the lights. I tried to stop them, but th-there were too many and they had a knife. Although I did manage to sock one of them, he's probably got a hell of a shiner."

Rodney waited for the reprimand or the comment about his lack of physical prowess that was no doubt about to come. John would show his disappointment as he mocked how Rodney was the only man he knew who had failed to learn anything in four years, despite what felt like constant training.

But John merely sighed.

Rodney looked at him in abject misery. He'd missed Christmas and his ribs hurt every time he sucked in air, and unfortunately he had to keep on doing the whole breathing thing or Keller would get angry.

"It's alright, Rodney. We caught all the men that did it. Or more like, they came forwards when it was quite obvious who was responsible from the way one of the security cameras installed near the mess hall caught them in the act. They're in the brig waiting to be picked up the next time the Daedalus swings by."

Rodney glared at him, "Then why…?"

"I just needed you to say it, rather than keeping it bottled up inside. You should've radioed me on the night."

"I lost my radio."

"Well, then _found_ a radio and called me before you even thought to intervene in a situation you knew could be dangerous."

"I didn't know," Rodney protested noisily, but in his heart he knew Sheppard was right.

Jennifer came over then and Rodney was glad for the interruption as his breathing had quickened from the argument and was becoming more and more laboured. She said, "Did I hear bickering voices? You two are like a couple of kids sometimes." But she had a twinkle in her eye as she topped up Rodney's already quite substantial pain meds.

They quickly made him fall asleep again and he welcomed the reprieve from not only the pain, but his sorrow at missing Christmas and the accusing glare of Sheppard.

* * *

When Rodney next woke, he felt pleasantly pain free, numb and heavy, but he managed to pry his eyelids open sufficiently to see that the rest of his team were gathered around his bed.

Teyla smiled down at him and said, "Dr Keller informed us that you would be waking again soon."

Ronon grunted and Sheppard looked blank.

Teyla took his hand in hers and beamed, "It may be a week since Christmas Day, but we have been waiting for you to recover to enjoy it."

Rodney frowned at her and then his eyes widened in surprise when he looked around himself for the first time and saw beyond the people gathered there.

There was tinsel curled around the guard rails of his bed, and a fake tree with lights nearby. Foil stars hung from the ceiling and baubles were hooked onto the stand holding up his IV fluid bags.

Teyla let go and returned with a wrapped package. When Rodney opened it he found a crude looking brown vessel shaped like a mug inside. He plastered on a fake smile and said, "Uh, thanks."

Teyla wasn't fooled though and said, "I made it myself. I understand you like drinking hot beverages. That will keep them hot for many hours when you forget about them."

"Oh, well thanks then," Rodney said more sincerely, as the memory of the taste of forgotten cold coffee swilling down his throat came back to him.

Ronon chucked him another bag. This one wasn't wrapped and quite crumpled. Rodney opened it and nearly gagged at the smell which assaulted him. He held his ribs with his free hand and choked, "Coffee?"

"Yeah."

"I don't really want to know how many people you had to kill to get this."

Ronon grinned back at him as he absently fiddled with a knife he had retrieved from _somewhere_. "Good."

John handed him a parcel last, properly wrapped in paper with pictures of penguins on it.

"A book of unarmed combat?" Rodney said in disbelief as he turned it over and studied the pictures. He saw one move illustrated on the back cover and squeaked, "Is that even possible?"

"Sure," John said with a smirk. "And when you're better I'll teach it to you."

Rodney looked around at their expectant faces and became flustered. He blushed and said, "I got stuff for you guys too, but in my quarters. I can't remember if I did any wrapping…"

Teyla smiled at him, "It is quite alright, Rodney. As we have waited for you all this time, we do not mind waiting longer."

"Speak for yourself," John said incredulously.

John smiled, as Ronon chuckled and a tight knot in Rodney's sore chest eased.

His team sat with him and they spoke for a while, telling him of all the things that had happened while he had been unconscious. Ronon and John may even have demonstrated the move that Rodney found puzzling, much to both Jennifer and Teyla's consternation. And when the moves and words ran out they just sat in comfortable silence until Rodney drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
